


Red Silk

by Gilli_ann



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Banter, Fluff, Humor, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-21
Updated: 2015-06-21
Packaged: 2018-04-01 13:38:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4021897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gilli_ann/pseuds/Gilli_ann
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An unusual bath-robe and a slippery soap make Merlin and Arthur finally admit how much they're turned on by each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Red Silk

**Author's Note:**

> The story is set right after the ending of season 3.
> 
> Disclaimer: The characters belong to BBC and Shine. I intend no copyright infringement and make no profit from this.

On the evening that changes everything they are in a strangely reckless mood. Exuberance comes bubbling out of nowhere and pushes to the surface of every look and move.

The rare occasional hours of laughter and silly pranks that Arthur lets himself share with his manservant are always good, but this time it's as if destiny has decided that enough is enough; - time to turn a new leaf. The time for pretence is past. 

Merlin has readied a steaming bath in Arthur's chambers, and stands by with wash-cloths, towels, scrubs, soap, nail cutters, and a large jug of cold water. All of it is lined very neatly up on the bench next to the tub. 

He pours some drops of pine-scented bath oil into the hot water. It's one of Gaius's secret receipts, especially prepared for the Pendragons, and it's used to soothe stiff muscles. The fresh scent clings to Arthur wherever he goes. Merlin sniffs appreciatively and gives the water a jaunty little twirl so as to spread the oil properly. He tests the temperature with his hand: Perfect.

Feeling every inch the efficient and able manservant, he congratulates himself on his perfection with a grin. He decides to forget the fact that he just managed to drop the soap on the floor, then pour water from the jug all over it when he crouched to retrieve the slippery bar. It slithered away from him twice across the floor before he managed to catch it. Now it lies in its dish, looking innocent and docile, but Merlin knows better. He glares at it briefly, then schools his face back to a properly bland mien and looks straight ahead, going for attentive indifference.

He is _not_ going to look at Arthur when the prince steps out from the inner chamber, wearing nothing but his new Pendragon-red silk bathrobe. He intends to stay completely aloof. It's just so very _difficult!_ Merlin twitches in impatient anticipation, completely ruining the impression of calm efficiency. But as of yet no-one but fate is around to notice his mood.

Once, not too long ago, Merlin had thought that nothing could be more excruciatingly tempting than those thin and near-transparent towels Arthur would tie casually around his hips when striding forward to his bath. 

The new royal bathrobe has proven him wrong.

Made of luxurious, clinging silk, it shimmers a rich red, enticingly hugging and outlining every curve, plane and angle of Arthur's body. And the prince's body _deserves_ to be outlined. And studied. And admired. His new role as regent of Camelot has not made him lax when it comes to the physical activities his duties require of him; – riding, jousting, and sword-play. He is fighting fit, at the very peak of health.

And he looks magnificent.

The robe is Morgause's legacy, in fact. It was found among her possessions in the chambers she occupied during her half-sister's brief reign. Arthur (who admittedly is a little vain, Merlin thinks) declared that there was no need to waste a perfectly decent and obviously expensive item of clothing. He ordered the Pendragon crest embroidered on the robe's back in gold thread, and with that it was turned into a fitting garment for Camelot's rightful regent.

The silk is smooth and slithers like soft caresses across the pale royal skin. Merlin has reason to know, for he takes care of the robe when the prince is elsewhere. He has held it, sniffed it, stroked its supple length, and rubbed it gently against his cheek.

Although Morgause and Arthur hardly are of a size, her silk robe is a tight but decent enough fit for the prince. She had taken to wearing flowing, loose-fitting robes while in Camelot, ditching her austere armour for far more comfortable and voluminous attire. Perhaps the rich food at court was making her gain weight, Merlin thinks cattily. Or perhaps she was merely getting bloated with all the power and magic she wielded. 

Arthur's broad shoulders and chest tend to keep the robe pulled apart, though, and it barely covers the essentials. Unless he is careful in belting the thing properly shut, it gapes a little in front.

At this moment, Arthur steps into the room with the robe loosley belted as usual. Merlin feels justified in fidgeting. What person in possession of a still-beating heart wouldn't be squirming at the vision that now approaches?

There's an enticing slit down the entire length of the robe. The silk opens and closes with every step the prince takes, letting Merlin have the most tantalizing glimpses of pale skin, a darkish-blond thatch of hair and Arthur's ruddy, sizeable cock and balls.

Not that Merlin is looking. Much. He gives himself an inward admonishing head-shake and forces himself to study the wall at the far end of the chamber. It's time to polish the boar's snout again. He shouldn't be lax about such important duties. The snout looks decidedly dull. And the tusks need cleaning too.

Arthur clears his throat.

Merlin snaps out of his boar contemplation with a start and returns to the reality of the prince, his bath and the sensual silks. Most of his brain-capacity, impaired as it is in this moment, attempts to determine whether he should pretend to be looking down at Arthur's feet or up to the ceiling. His eyes flicker up and down, up and down, which makes him go dizzy. He looks a little bit drunk and is swaying gently on his feet. 

Arthur quirks a fondly exasperated eyebrow at his cross-eyed manservant, and opens his mouth to make a comment. But just then he steps in the slippery puddle of soapy water that Merlin happened to spill on the tile floor when he was chasing the recalcitrant bar of soap around. 

"Whoah!"

The prince takes up advanced acrobatics, doing something amazingly close to a backwards somersault. He goes down hard, landing on the stone tiles with a thump and a loud _'Ooooouf'_ as the air is knoked out of him.

Stunned, he lies flat out on the floor for a moment.

Merlin's is the very image of shock and surprise. His eyes go impossibly wide, like those of a startled deer or a snake-charmed rabbit, and he throws himself forward onto his knees. “Arthur! Did you survive? Does it hurt? Did you break anything?”

Arthur groans and hoists himself up on his elbows. He rubs a hand across the back of his head, testing for injuries. Still sprawled on the floor, he glares at Merlin most evilly.

The red silk robe has inched open even more than before, and despite his dithering state Merlin cannot fail to notice it. The belt must have come completely loose. It's distracting.

“What,” Arthur growls menacingly, “have you got to say for yourself, Merlin? How is this possible? Every time I think you've changed for the better, you go back to being the most incompetent, hopeless, useless _idiot_ of a manservant that ever saw the inside of his master's... "

“.... robes, uhm….thighs?” Merlin yelps, interrupting. Oh, by the merciful goddess - he actually said that out loud!

Arthur glares at him for a moment. Then he suddenly throws his head back, in that way he has, and releases a sally of laughter to the roof. It's joyful and loud, and gives Merlin an excellent view of a pale throat, adam's apple bobbing gleefully.

The prince's position on the floor, - shoulders pulled back and back arched - makes the silk robe gape completely open. Incidentally Arthur has also spread his thighs. Merlin gets an excellent look at pale expanses of skin, massive thigh muscles, and those impressive, mouth-watering family jewels.

 _Surely_ this cannot be deliberate on Arthur's part? Merlin enjoys the view while it lasts. And the view is.... magnificent. Merlin's throat goes dry and constricted even as he swallows with an audible gulp. He's overcome with the stunning sight of the nearly nude prince on display on the floor with his head thrown back in abandon. 

It's a view Merlin would happily enjoy every day of his (hopefully) very long life. He'd count such a life extremely well spent.

Arthur's broad chest hitches with little aftershocks of laughter. “You – you are the most incredible...... I have no words, Merlin. None. I only ask this one thing of you: _Never_ take up diplomacy."

Merlin's cheeks feel fiery hot, which really is a minor miracle given how much blood has rushed to engorge his ever-hopeful and currently jubilant cock. He squirms and hunches forward, mortified on his own behalf more than on half-naked Arthur's.

Frantically he tries to divert Arthur's attention. Unfortunately his brain has not re-connected with his mouth, so he just starts chattering randomly.

“Sorry, Sire. So very sorry. It's my fault. I won't deny it. It's hard to pay attention to details when.... uh, when.... "

His hands make random flailing gestures in the air, indicating Arthur's state of undress and his bared body. _When you suddenly present yourself like a sacrificial offering to be explored and ravished and humped and had, right here on the floor_ , is what Merlin's brain supplies, but he manages to bite his tongue just in time.

Arthur groans, still on display in all his glory. The shifting red silk provides an enticing contrast to his pale, strong limbs. One limb in particular is definitely becoming more solid under Merlin's intent gaze. Arthur is getting hard, there can be no doubt about it.

Merlin openly studies Arthur's cock, completely enthralled. Is this happening, or is it just some sort of lurid, enchanted dream?

Arthur launches into a heated tirade. “Hard to pay attention to _details_? Am I insignificant to you? Am I inconveniencing your oh-so-important, oh-so-exciting life, Merlin? Let me tell you....”

 _That lovely, lovely big hard cock of yours certainly is very far from insignificant just now_ , Merlin's brain comments delightedly. Luckily he is currently speechless.

Arthur rants on, his ire becoming more wildly exaggerated by the minute. And he makes no attempt to cover himself up.

Merlin may be stupid, but he's not _that_ stupid. He knows what Arthurs behaviour signals. What it _has_ to mean. He can hardly believe his luck.

“With you around, it's a miracle that I'm still in one piece and fully functional!” Arthur eventually concludes his string of indignant accusations. Looking up at Merlin, he pulls one of his silly faces. It's an exaggerated mock-angry grimace, the kind of funny expression that only Merlin gets to see. 

“Imagine the ballads the bards would have composed about me; the prince who perished ignobly on a quest to reach his bath-tub. Brought down by slippery soap!"

Merlin's heart soars. “It's true that there aren't many marketing opportunities for Camelot's soap-sellers in this, Sire. But so many possible slogans for the soap-hating faction! The soap is mightier than the sword, maybe? Or... keep soap a stranger, stay out of danger! Stink like the middens, assassins good riddance!”

“Merlin,” Arthur says, his eyes sparkling in delight. “You're blathering!”

Merlin shuts up.

Arthur grins. “Seriously, be very happy I didn't die. You'd neither be laughing nor composing silly rhymes when they hauled your sorry ass to the block for regicide through incompetence.

“Oh, bollocks. I'd escape from the dungeons. Easily, like everyone else does. I'd just - pelt all pursuers with wet soap bars! They'd slip and stumble and go head over heels!”

Arthur guffaws. "What's gotten into you today, Merlin?” His eyes rake across Merlin's body with hot intent, and Merlin's fairly certain that keen glance misses nothing on its way. 

_Not your cock, more's the pity,_ Merlin's helpful mind supplies in reply, but he manages to keep his mouth closed. He knows he's still blushing to rival the colour of Arthur's gaping robe. 

Unexpectedly, Merlin feels a stab of sadness. All this secrecy! He's keeping so many important things from Arthur, and it pains him every day to have to do it. _If I can't let him know about my magic just yet, at least let him know this. That I think of him like this. Let me admit what I'm longing for, what my body craves. Let there be one less secret between us._

He stands up and straightens, earnestly and proudly, knowing that even with his baggy brown breeches he's putting a visible bulge on display. He looks down at Arthur, and nods in confirmation. 

Arthur takes in the full meaning of Merlin's gesture. It's his turn to pause for a moment. Then he gets to his feet, stretches gracefully and _pounces_. He grabs Merlin and throws him over his shoulder. 

Manhandling Merlin into position with practised skill, Arthur holds him in place with firm, strong hands on his back and buttocks. He completely ignores Merlin's hard cock pressing into his shoulder, disregards Merlin's obligatory kicking and flailing, and steps right up to the tub.

“Would you perhaps like to test my bath?” he inquires politely. Merlin goes still. He knows when to admit defeat. He's about to get very wet. And what a defeat it will be, if they both get into the tub!

Arthur pauses, deliberating. His hand on Merlin's rump presses down more firmly. Merlin whimpers. He can't help himself. Arthur squeezes one buttock appreciatively and turns on his heel.

“I've changed my mind.”

Walking purposefully to the large royal bed in the inner chamber, he swings Merlin down with ease, dropping him on the crimson bedcovers. He himself follows at once, straddling Merlin effortlessly, grabbing both his hands and pushing him into the bedding.

Merlin lies pinned and gloriously captive, looking up into Arthur's eyes.

There's a beat in which neither of them moves. The unspoken question and confirmation that pass between them can never be retracted, and never denied. There's no going back from this.

But there is so much they can do going forward!

Arthur strengthens his grip on Merlin's hands to either side of his head and leans in closer, mouth pulling into a smile next to Merlin's heat-blushed ear.

“I can still take you apart with one blow, you know!”

Merlin _wants_ so much, his voice is a mere husky whisper, one choked word at the time. “I can still take you apart... with less than that.”

“So you keep claiming.”

Arthur's wide grin is a thing of glory. He releases Merlin's hands, moves to untie his manservant's neckerchief, pulls it off in one smooth movement, and casts it aside. “Yes, that is your boast, but....” 

He leans in again and suckles at Merlin's collarbone for a moment, pulling warm blood up to pool just under the pale skin, then licks a wet streak up the long neck to find an ear. “....isn't it high time you _proved_ it?”

Merlin groans, writhing under the weight holding him in place. His pelvis pushes upwards of its own accord in eager little thrusts. He can feel Arthur's hardness, sense him pushing back in response.

"Oh, but wait!” he suddenly exclaims, eyes going wide in horror. He tries to fend Arthur off, pushing against the strong chest above him ineffectually. “Stop! Why are you behaving like a complete wanton with me after all this time? Aren't you officially courting Gwen? You like girls, I know you do!”

Arthur dips close again, nibbling on Merlin's morsel of an ear lobe, warm breath wafting across Merlin's sensitive skin. “Do you _really_ think this is the proper time to discuss the various aspects of my love-life, Merlin?”

“No,” Merlin gasps. “Nonono, but.... but... are you absolutely sure you're not enchanted again? Perhaps it's the robe, Morgause's evil red silk of lust and decadence! Perhaps it is lined with spells causing you to lose your mind to shameful urges!”

Arthur pulls back and looks down on him, astonished and disappointed. His lips are very red and very slightly swollen and very, very kissable. Merlin hurts with the want to taste them and devour them.

“Do you truly think this is shameful?” Arthur asks, voice going quiet.

“No, never, I don't, how could I? I've wanted this, I've longed for this, almost since the day we met! But some people would not agree. Perhaps Morgause wants to embarrass you, perhaps she cast such a spell because _she_ thinks this is shameful.”

Arthur grimaces, shaking his head. “Oh, I don't know. I shouldn't think so, the way she kept looking at Morgana. “

Merlin's mouth forms a perfect, astonished O.

Arthur grins with recklessly lopsided glee. “You think the robe is evil, Merlin? Time to get rid of it, then.”

He sits back on his heels and shakes the crimson silk off his shoulders, his strong body and long, lean muscles a sight that makes Merlin's mouth water and his body shudder. In one swoop Arthur drops the robe, letting it pool around his arse and Merlin's legs.

“I want it nearby,” Arthur murmurs. “I want to get you naked, and to rub that red silk all over your skin, and to wrap your cock in it, and to pull and stroke until you come for me.”

Merlin moans, his mind reeling with lust. He is hard, so hard, and he's pushing up against Arthurs arse now, stuttering little thrusts that make him see stars. Arthur is gloriously, unbelievably naked. And he's on top of Merlin.

Merlin's line of vision whites out. It's like looking into the sun in all its splendour. He closes his eyes.

“Oh, no, there is no spell on us,” Arthur pants, leaning in to claim Merlin's neck and collarbones as his own, licking and nibbling between words. ”I've wanted this for a long time too.”

“Why," Merlin breathes, bright colours flaring behind his eyelids. “Why didn't you just tell me?”

“I was _hoping_ you'd get the message when I was always so handsy with you, you clueless ninny. Otherwise I didn't want to take advantage... I didn't know if you... if you....”

Merlin moans. “You're simply too noble and too circumspect for your own good sometimes, Arthur Pendragon.”

Arthur bites his ear. "Now there's a big word to go with your big..... Mmmmm, yes!"

Merlin's hands are free now. He reaches up, grabs Arthur, pulls him down and crushes their mouths together, his lips parting eagerly. Arthur is heavy on him, grinding against him. It feels better than anything Merlin has ever dreamed or imagined.

Arthur pulls away to gulp air at last. “I should have known you'd be a fantastic kisser. I've seen the way Gwaine looks at your mouth, as if it's his personal guiding star. You've been doing him a lot, haven't you?”

Merlin looks up with a dazed expression. His nostrils flare. “Do you really think this is the time to discuss the various aspects of _my_ love-life, Arthur?”

Arthur snorts, surprised, laughing even as he dips back down to suck gleefully on Merlin's lower lip, pulling it outwards with his teeth.

“Your love-life starts and stops in my bed from now on, I hope we're agreed on that?” Arthur says, breathlessly punctuating every word with a hip thrust.

"Yes. As long as you want me, I'm yours." Merlin's voice is sultry, smooth as silk. He lingers over that last, glorious word. It's a pleasure all of its own to be able to speak that promise out loud. Taking possession, his long slim fingers clutch at Arthur's shoulders, his legs coming up to cradle Arthur's hips.

Arthur braces himself on his knees, pulling Merlin up with him. “Let's get you out of these clothes,” he wheezes, grabbing on to the back of Merlin's tunic. 

He grins into Merlin's eyes with impish delight. “We can do whatever we want to – be as filthy as we want. Remember, there's that nice-smelling bath ready for us, after."

"Then let's get dirty," Merlin says. 

It's happy and urgent, loud and messy. Neither is in the mood for tender lovemaking. But they have a long night in front of them, with time enough to go slow if they want to. Time to savour, to taste and smell and touch, to whisper silly endearments in the dark, to share their joy and their confidence in tomorrow and each other. Time enough to drowse together and to wake up again to the naked, soul-deep intimacy that only the night hours will allow.

Fate is hovering right above the bed while they writhe together and cry out their release as one, staining and crushing the fabric underneath. Their joining may long have been written in the stars, but here and now it is finally set down in history by their first night of passion, and sealed on a magnificent splash of bright red silk.

   



End file.
